


Bluish Afternoon

by sixappleseeds



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where everything is the same except for a small but significant loophole in Blue's curse. Written before BLLB's release. Gansey's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bluish Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "Bluish" by Animal Collective.

“Come over,” Gansey said into the phone.  
  
“What?” Blue said. She’d answered on the first ring. Gansey hadn’t bothered with hello.  
  
“No one’s here, Jane. We have the afternoon. _Come over_.”    
  
A few minutes earlier, Ronan had thrown Gansey a wink as he left for the Barns with Adam. Noah indicated with a shrug and some hand-flapping that he would probably be going along. Gansey had the impression Noah saw himself as some kind of chaperone, which would have puzzled Gansey if he hadn’t seen the look Adam had shot Ronan just before they departed. He wasn’t sure when all of _that_ had begun - he wasn’t even sure what all of that _was_ , exactly - but if Noah was there it couldn’t be too alarming.  
  
On the other end, he heard Blue shut a door. “Well,” she said a little breathlessly. “Okay.”  
  
Gansey threw himself onto the sofa. “Maybe you could wear that one dress?”  
  
He heard her smile when she said, “The one with the lace?”  
  
He closed his eyes. “Yes.”  
  
“Give me twenty minutes.”  
  
.  
  
“ _Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus!_ ” Gansey shouted from the window twenty-three minutes later. Lines from Catullus were not ideal to cry from great heights, but he couldn’t imagine the poet minding.  
  
“Excuse me?” Blue called over her shoulder. She was propping her bike against the Camaro. Gansey found the gesture surprisingly endearing.  
  
“We’re alone, Jane, get up here!”  
  
A few weeks ago, Orla had received the distinctly surprising premonition that Blue’s curse was pretty specific, after all: if she kissed her true love, they would die. If someone kissed _her_ , Orla felt certain that they would be safe. Blue immediately asked Persephone and Calla about this, being strangely disinclined to believe anything Orla had to say. In a conversation Gansey was not supposed to overhear, Calla had growled and Persephone had squeaked and they both concluded that Orla was correct. “But,” Persephone added in her tiny voice. “Perhaps do not let Gan--” (another growl from Calla) “-- _any_ one kiss your face. To be on the safe side.”  
  
From the parking lot, Blue adjusted her dress. The wind was teasing the skirt, blowing it up past her knees. “Coming!” she shouted.  
  
Gansey leaned against the open window. Blue was wearing black boots with silver and bluish striped stockings that ended -- the wind tossed her skirt again -- about mid-thigh. He swallowed, and sent a quick text to Ronan’s phone. _fyi i am locking you all out_.  
  
Ronan texted back almost immediately. _loser_. And then, _ill tell noah_.  
  
.  
  
“Come on,” Gansey said as he reached for Blue.  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” she said through a laugh. She stood in the doorway and kicked off her boots. Gansey bent around her to click the lock into place.  
  
“I believe,” he whispered into her ear, “I am what they call _horny_.”  He felt her shiver, and pulled her closer.  
  
Gansey was not inexperienced when it came to sex, but he hadn’t had many relationships, and none of them had been especially serious. Kissing and messing around was fun, certainly, but he never placed it high on his list of priorities. There had always been more important things in life.  
  
Being with Blue, though, had lately become _essential_.  
  
He pressed his nose into the place where her shoulder met her neck, and let his hands slide down her back. She wrapped her own arms around him, and together they half-walked, half-danced from the door to Gansey’s bed. She giggled again when they tumbled onto the sheets, and Gansey felt like he could do anything in the world so long as it made Blue laugh.  
  
.  
  
“May I take off my shirt?” he asked some time later. They were exploring the implications of Orla’s revelation very carefully; even being shirtless in Blue’s presence was not something Gansey would take for granted.  
  
Blue ran a hand down Gansey’s arm, and then skipped her fingers over to brush the line of skin just above his trousers. He drew in a breath, held it.  “Yes please,” she said. Her cheeks were pink, and she was smiling.  
  
He sat up, yanking his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor in one mostly smooth move.  She sat up herself, and reached to undo the buttons of her dress.  
  
“Wait.” Gansey touched her elbow. Blue frowned. “Don’t --” He drew her arm down, rubbed her wrist with his thumb. “I just really like that dress. Don’t take it off yet?”  
  
She’d told him that she made the dress from old lace curtains. It should have been terrifically ugly. It was exactly the opposite. The swirling patterns of lace clung to her body, and the fabric itself seemed like it should be transparent. Every time Blue wore it he caught himself staring.  
  
Leaning back across his pillows now, Blue gave him a canny little smile. She squeezed his hand before scooting off the bed. He blinked. He was staring again. He should probably stop that.  
  
“Close your eyes,” Blue said. Yes, he should definitely stop staring. Gansey closed his eyes, but shifted so he sat on the edge of the bed.  He heard clothing rustle, something hit the floor - surely she wasn’t taking off the dress anyway? But would he really complain if she did? - and then felt Blue’s cool hands rest against his shoulders. Still with his eyes closed, he sighed and bent his head. He felt fabric over the softness of her belly. She hadn’t taken off the dress. He opened his eyes.  
  
She had certainly taken off something, though. The dress _was_ nearly transparent. Gansey had to remind himself to breathe.  
  
“I didn’t realize until after I’d made it that this dress would always require a slip,” she explained. Her fingers were in his hair, stroking gently.  
  
“Maybe not always,” he said. He sounded hoarse, and swallowed. He found he was gripping the sheets, and reached up to grasp Blue’s hands instead. She squeezed, and then stepped back, and back again, to stand before him in the warm afternoon light.  She was smiling, that small, knowing smile she gave only him. Gansey hadn’t known Blue had a smile just for him until a few weeks ago; he wondered now how he’d ever survived without it.  
  
Then her smile broadened into a grin. “Maybe not always,” she agreed. “But this thing is really itchy without anything on underneath.” And with that, while Gansey watched wide-eyed and mouth opened, she shed the dress and set it neatly on the floor.  
  
“Now,” she said, turning back to him in nothing but her stockings. “Where were we?”  
  
.  
  
“ _Mea vita_ ,” Gansey whispered, after they’d marveled in the feelings of skin-on-skin, of calloused hands and sharp nails, of round muscles and sharp bones and so much softness in between. “May I kiss you here?” He touched a finger to Blue’s collarbone.  
  
Blue frowned for an instant at the endearment, but then she smiled again. “Yes,” she said.  
  
He did, and smiled himself when she gasped.  
  
“And here?” he asked a few moments later. He traced his thumb over breast.  She arched and pressed her hips into his; he pressed back.  
  
“Please,” Blue said, breath catching.  
  
This was a game they were learning, this questioning and answering. Gansey kissed Blue gently here, and here, and here; Blue reciprocated with her hands, and her hips, and her gasping breath. _Yes. Yes, there. Please_.  
  
Gansey nipped at the line of Blue’s stocking just where it ended on her thigh.  He imagined peeling those stockings off, kissing his way down her legs...  
  
“Gansey,” Blue said softly. He looked up. She’d propped herself up on his pillows, and now she reached to take his hand. “Kiss me _here_.” She guided their joined hands between her legs; they both groaned as his fingers curled into her cunt, sinking into the warmth and wetness there.  
  
“Are you sure?” He managed to meet her eyes and ignore the way she pulsed around his fingers.  
  
She was blushing furiously, but she raised a brow and said, “Do I seem unsure to you? I want your tongue inside me. Sooner rather than later, please.”  
  
He couldn’t help it: he laughed. “Jesus Jane,” he said as he lay down between Blue’s knees. “Alright. I believe I would like nothing better.”  
  
.  
  
“Come closer,” Gansey murmured into the pillow, quite a while later.  
  
“What?” Blue mumbled.  She’d drifted, somehow, to the other side of the bed.  They both had drifted into, and out of, sleep.  
  
“Closer,” he repeated, and then solved the problem by rolling over himself.  He nestled his head against Blue’s shoulder; she smiled lazily and closed her eyes again.  
  
At this time of the afternoon, at this time of the year, the sun shone low and warm through Monmouth’s windows. Gansey’s bed was bathed in light, so much so that blankets were unnecessary. Dressed in only sunlight, Blue’s skin seemed almost too bright to look at directly. Gansey traced his fingers along the curve of her ribs, down her belly, up to her breast, and back again, marveling. _If I have to die_ , he thought drowsily. _I would like to die just like this, right here_. Blue made a little humming noise, and turned to throw a leg, still stockinged, around Gansey’s hips.  Gansey dimly remembered the apartment’s locked door, and everything in the world beyond it. He decided he didn’t care about any of it, and drifted back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The Latin is Catullus, from his poems "5" and "109." Translations from Wikibooks:  
> Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus - Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love  
> Mea vita - My life


End file.
